“It’s weird to think of your mother acting like a mother,” Bette said thoughtfully and with such genuine contemplation that I couldn’t really be very offended.

I nodded. “It’s weird for me, too, but I think it’s one of those traits she has. So that she doesn’t, you know, drive me completely crazy.”

She laughed. I tilted my head up to look at her. She looked as though she was about to say something, but her mouth stay closed, her eyes flicked away, she sighed in discontent. I waited.

Finally, she said, “Um, warm milk.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“When I couldn’t sleep. Daddy would give me… uh, warm milk.” It was dark and I was probably wrong, but I thought I detected the faintest trace of a blush.

“I’ve never tried that; does that actually work?”

She nodded. “He’d read, too, sometimes,” she offered and then looked expectantly at me as though she had just revealed top secret, important information.

“Ugh.” I shook my head. “My mother never read to me.”

“I think it’s so important,” Bette said quietly. “I don’t know what kind of a person I’d be if Daddy and I hadn’t shared that.” I propped my head up on my hand so that I could look at her, my elbow resting on her stomach. “Because…” She stopped, looking embarrassed.

“What?” I asked.

She glanced at me. “There’s just-you could be the most… emotionally stunted parent in the world. But if you take the time out to read to your child, that’s… I think people show a greater depth to their character in moments like that.” She swallowed hard. “It just seems important,” she finished hastily. “And your elbow’s digging into my ribcage.”

“Oh. Sorry.” I moved it.

I wanted to understand her. At the very least, I wanted her to let me. But I didn’t know what to say.

So I told her the story of my dog Jacky, and then she told me about how she didn’t have any pets, but that there was this cat in the neighborhood who used to follow her home from school everyday. And then I told her what trick-or-treating in Hollywood is like when you’re a kid (not fun!) and she told me what trick-or-treating is like in North Philadelphia (pretty average, really), and it was getting on 3:00 in the morning and neither of us were tired.